


Into the Snake Pit

by ChaiAndChill



Series: Naga!Kylo [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Creampie, DFAB reader, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Elements of Horror?, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hemipenes, How Do I Tag, I Half-Assed Researched For This, I'm terrible at this, Loss of Virginity, Monster Biology, Naga!Kylo, Reader Makes Poor Decisions, Sexual Violence?, Tail Fucking, Triple Penetration, Virginity as a Plot Device, Why Settle For One Dick When You Can Have Two?, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaiAndChill/pseuds/ChaiAndChill
Summary: Tagging along with your father on an archaeological dig over your summer break from college goes awry. Very, very awry.





	Into the Snake Pit

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Star Wars franchise. Please excuse my continued flagrant bastardization of its characters, I'm trying.

     You  _ really  _ shouldn’t be doing this, a voice nags at you. It’s your conscience, you supply to yourself needlessly. Of course it’s your conscience and, of course, it’s right: What you’re doing is extremely stupid. 

     Yet you push on, hoisting a pack over your shoulder loaded to the brim with rope and various climbing and excavation equipment. Your father sleeps mere feet from the entrance of your shared tent, snoring softly as you attempt to sneak past him. 

     Your gear rattles in your bag but he remains undisturbed, not even a hitch in his breathing. He always had been a heavy sleeper, from what you could remember.

     Which wasn’t much. 

     His first love has always been his work as an archeologist. It didn’t matter if it was Christmas or your birthday or even your grandfather’s funeral, if there was an ancient tomb or cursed battleground to explore, your father was there. He would always bring you trinkets from his exploits, almost as if in penance for missing many of your childhood milestones. At first you had been delighted by those relics of the past but now… Now they served as a bitter reminder of a fatherless childhood and a man you barely knew.

     You figure that your growing resentment (and your less than stellar grades as of late) is the reason your father had insisted on you accompanying him to Egypt over your summer break for some “quality bonding” time. A sandstorm had revealed a long hidden pyramid and your father and his team had been given the honor of being the first to explore it. Though, if by bonding he’d meant trying to avoid all the death traps inside a crumbling pyramid, then sure, you were “bonding”. 

     Truth be told, you had initially been internally screaming with excitement at the prospect of going on a dig. Especially one of this much importance to the field. So much so, that you hadn’t been able to fully conceal the sparkle in your eyes from your father, who had grinned down at you with so much pride and happiness that you’d felt a true connection with him for one of the first times in your life.

     Any excitement quickly died the moment your father decided that you were incompetent and began to hover you at every turn, slowing down the rest of his colleagues’ progression through the tomb and causing more than one near death experience. Your father’s colleagues never complained openly but you shrank beneath the disapproval in their gazes. 

     So when you’d noticed a limestone block somewhat smaller than the others that lined the pyramid’s walls and ever so slightly varied in color, you’d pressed on it while your father argued with his colleagues over whether the group should push on or not. The block had moved under the moderate pressure you’d placed on it and slid to the side. A lever had been hidden behind the brick and an inscription that you ( _ very _ ) loosely translated to: squiggly lines, random vaguely human looking shape, more squiggly lines and symbols, and the hieroglyph for ‘treasure’. 

     You’d never claimed to be an expert on ancient Egyptian or anything. 

     Besides, the only word you’d cared to take to heart was ‘treasure’. 

     Your head is filled with fantasies of making some grand discovery and rubbing it in your father and his (silently) judging colleagues’ faces as you carefully make your way deeper into the tomb. You feel kind of like Indiana Jones with your flashlight in hand, on the hunt for ancient secrets.

     The block is still pushed into the position you’d left it in when you reach your destination. Your party had been too frustrated with each other to notice it when you’d quit for the evening. You idly wonder if anyone’s aware of your absence yet while you reach for the rough stone lever.

     A wave of apprehension washes over you now as you’re faced with the reality of your decision. 

     Should you really do this?   
     The answer to that is an easy ‘no’. 

_      Could  _ you do this? Could you do this to those men and women that had spent their entire lives waiting for an opportunity like this? To your  _ father _ ?   
**_Yes._ **

     You hear a series of clicks and the walls around you shake violently the instant you pull the lever. Your adrenaline skyrockets when the floor beneath you begins to crumble and you can feel your stomach drop with it as you fall for some indeterminable distance.

     You land hard, the wind knocked out of you, but your fall miraculously cushioned by your backpack. Your flashlight clatters somewhere to the left of you, flickering then dying.

_      Fuck. _

     You lie in the darkness for several beats, willing yourself not to hyperventilate. The ground beneath you feels uneven, lumps of varying sizes making an already distressing situation more uncomfortable. 

     At least you can still wiggle your fingers and toes, you tell yourself. Even if you’ll likely go blind from staring sightlessly into the void long before your father and his colleagues will be able to dig you out from whatever hole you were (un)lucky enough to fall into.

     On the one hand, you aren’t dead and seem to be fully functional but on the other hand, your father just might kill you if he ever manages to find you in the crumbling crypt.

     Any further thought is brought to a screeching halt as you hear  _ something  _ begin to move. Some shifting sound echoes around you, dry and raspy, like sandpaper over stone. 

     You’re no idiot and as a telltale hiss cuts through the air, your suspicions are confirmed. 

     The cackle that spews forth from your mouth is borne of hysteria and disbelief.  _ Of course you’d fall into a snake pit!  _

     You close your eyes and laugh until tears are sliding down your cheeks and loud, blubbering noises bubble from your throat. You’re going to die in this forsaken place.

     A voice calls out to you, deep and in a language you can’t understand. It’s as hypnotic as it is horrible, grinding itself into your psyche.

     Whatever  _ thing  _ you’d happened across (for it certainly  _ isn’t  _ a snake) speaks again and you grip your head in a futile attempt to block out the damnable pressure that keeps digging beneath your skull. It’s voice sears through the soft tissue of your brain until you swear you can understand what it says despite still hearing unfamiliar phrases and sounds.

_      ‘Shut up! You mortals are so dramatic, the pain will pass,’ _ the voice complains, alerting you to the fact that you’d been screaming yourself hoarse for the past several beats. 

     True to the creature’s words, the agony from it burrowing into your head fades, leaving you panting and drenched in sweat. 

     Fire ignites like fairy lights around you, momentarily blinding you and worsening the pounding in your temples. You squint through the pain, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

     You immediately wish you hadn’t.

     The blurry, misshapen ground reveals itself to be a wasteland of smooth, ivory bones picked clean of all muscle and sinew and preserved for thousands of years in the arid desert atmosphere. Worse still, is the man, if you can call him that, reclined atop the remains as though a king upon his throne. 

     You hastily scramble backwards with your hands, trying to put distance between yourself and the creature. Your movements disrupt the bones beneath you and you flop down staring doe-eyed at the figure watching you boredly.

     He is oddly beautiful. From his mostly human torso to the thick, heavy looking coils of his iridescent black tail, there is no denying the near immediate and inexplicable attraction you feel for this… snake-man.

     A spark of interest lights his slitted yellow eyes and a long, forked black tongue parts the seams of his lips as if he can sense your  _ -completely-  _ inappropriate fascination with his densely muscled chest and what looks like a slit over where his pubic bone  _ should  _ be.

     Your face burns in embarrassment at the chuckle of amusement that echoes around you. It’s not so much of a chuckle but a chuffing sound, and when the creature speaks again you note through the dull pain of his presence in your mind that the act of speaking seems difficult for him.

_      ‘Something you like, mortal?’  _ he quips, unwinding his many coils and crossing the distance between you faster than you can follow with your eyes.

     Disoriented, you blink, and somehow the creature slithers even closer in that fraction of a second. His iridescent tail circles around you, not quite touching you but near enough to remind you that you are in the den of a predator and ultimately at his mercy.

_      ‘I don’t like playing with my food,’ _ the creature asserts, pulling himself up to tower over you.

     You hadn’t noticed it so much when he’d been reclined, but now with him before you like this, you realize just how  _ big  _ he is. His shoulders are easily twice the width of yours and the muscles of his arms make it clear to you that even without his meters long tail, he would have no trouble crushing you with his bare hands.

     The creature tilts his head, long raven tresses falling into ochre eyes as he considers you. His face is even more breathtaking up close, pale with a strong nose and soft lips, and you find yourself unable to speak, move,  _ think _ , under the spell of his beauty.

_      ‘What, no begging for your life? None of that insufferable screaming? _ ’ his tone is condescending and a thrill of something inappropriate skitters down your spine as you feel the cool, smooth weight of his tail begin to wrap around the bare skin of your calves.

_      ‘You want me, little mortal,’ _ he states, his inky tongue fluttering just shy of touching your cheek.

     You try to take a step back, to distance yourself from this creature that seems to fluctuate between wanting to devour you and wanting to toy with you, but find yourself trapped firmly in the coils of his tail. Panic wells in your chest at this realization and you begin to struggle fruitlessly in your bondage. 

     A thin, stiff…  _ appendage…  _ causes you to cease your struggling. Not that your attempts at flailing had done anything other than make your shirt ride up and elicit more of the strange, raspy chuffing of the creature’s amusement. 

     The appendage feels mostly cool and smooth, like his tail, but with a hard, pointed tip that digs into the exposed skin of your belly. You think for a moment that it might be some sort of claw but immediately disregard that thought. You had seen with your own eyes that the creature had been half man, half snake and snakes didn’t have claws, right?

     What even  _ is  _ the thing that has ensnared you? You wrack your brain for the answer, thinking back to the bedtime stories (read: horrifying unfiltered retellings of folktales and legends) that your father had told you about mythical creatures. 

     Lamia? Echidna? Weren’t those all female snake people though? 

     Nagini? No, not quite...

_      ‘Naga,’ _ the creature supplies for you, clearly reading your thoughts and growing bored of your struggle to properly label him.

     He tightens his tail around you and the sharp point of  _ whatever  _ that appendage is presses harder into the soft flesh of your stomach. Despite the coolness of his scales against you, sweat beads at your brow and trickles down to the small of your back. You don’t move, don’t even think of breathing with that  _ thing  _ so close to piercing you. 

_      ‘Stupid mortal, if you were to die here, I would have devoured you the instant you released me,’ _ the naga’s tone is almost affectionate and you find yourself unable to look away from his slitted eyes as he lowers his face to yours. 

_      ‘It would be so easy, too,’ _ he practically purrs, his cold cheek skimming past the heated flesh of yours,  _ ‘Such a naive, foolish, little virgin.’ _

     “This  _ virgin  _ has a name,” you grumble, bristling at his conjecture, “Virginity is just a construct, anyways…”

_      ‘A construct that allowed you to free me,’ _ he murmurs your name against your pulse, fluttering beneath the delicate skin of your neck,  _ ‘Let me properly thank you.’ _

     The coils of his tail tighten further around you, squeezing the breath from your lungs, and you can’t even whimper as the tip of his claw pierces your belly. It scratches deep and almost instantly you’re struck with a burning sensation beneath your skin. 

     You wriggle helplessly in the naga’s grip, mouth gaping in a silent scream. The blood in your veins bubbles angrily in response to some unknown venom. Your fingers grip at the black iridescence of his scales, trying to ground yourself as an inferno threatens to consume you from the inside out.

     So caught up in your turmoil (his claw keeps scratching and scratching and  _ scratching  _ against your bleeding stomach), you nearly miss the slick sound of his genitals emerging from his tail. 

     For a split second the burning sensation afflicting you fades into the background as you behold his twin cocks, glistening from some sort of self-lubrication. They’re anything but human looking, with subtly tapered heads and textured nubs decorating the base of them, and yet you find yourself wanting them,  _ him _ , all the same.

_      ‘I’ve never played with a human before, consider yourself fortunate,’ _ the naga informs you with the same condescending air that he’s harbored since the beginning of your encounter and you idly wonder if he has a name so that you might curse it as another wave of agony razes through you.     

_      ‘What a cheeky little pet. Names hold power...but if you survive, I might award you mine,’  _ he muses, loosening his heavy coils to slide the tip of his tail beneath the hem of your cargo shorts and underwear before yanking them from you.

     His penetration of you is swift and merciless, tearing through your hymen with one thick, monstrous cock. The slickened nubs at the base of his other cock saw against your clit and the searing pain coursing through your veins morphs into a frenetic throbbing that has you arching into the violent assault on your body.

     It should hurt, in fact it  _ does  _ hurt, but the lust clouding your mind far outweighs any thoughts of self-preservation. Your cunt clasps desperately around his intrusion and you can feel your arousal flowing from where your bodies are joined, coating his tail and your thighs. Rutting against him awkwardly, your fragile human body struggles to take just one of his hemipenes. 

     And still you want  _ more _ .

     You gasp loudly as the tip of his tail, coated in your combined fluids, prods your ass. It presses past the tight ring of muscle and you scream in pleasure-pain at the sensation of being filled so completely. 

     Amusement filters across whatever telepathic link the naga has formed with you and you get the vague impression that this is just the beginning. 

     Sweat plasters your shirt to your chest, even as you cling to the cool, thickly muscled planes of his chest and abdomen. You’re babbling incoherently against his collarbone, stuck on the precipice of pleasure and unable to tip over the edge as he drives into your virgin holes ruthlessly chasing his own end. He swells inside you and stills, a sibilant noise echoing inside your head while his seed coats your fluttering walls.

     For a moment you foolishly believe that the exchange is finished and find yourself dissatisfied and unable to quell the embers that threaten to consume you yet again. 

     The naga’s cock is still hard despite having spent itself inside you. His other cock twitches against your clit, the only warning you receive before he readjusts and forces both of his cocks inside your already uncomfortably stretched cunt. You’re certain he’s torn your delicate passage and yet you can’t bring yourself to care as with each stroke he stokes the fire inside you until you’re certain you’ll go mad if you don’t cum.  _ Soon _ .

     Tears come unbidden, an embarrassing spectacle if you weren’t so desperate to find your own release. Your nipples and clit burn in overstimulation as they rub against him. You beg, plead,  _ grovel _ , for him to release you from the purgatory of pleasure he’s subjected you to, rutting shamelessly and demanding more. 

     More of what, you’re not sure, but if you could just get  _ more  _ you would surely cum, you think.

     He laughs at you, pleased with the way he’s broken your mind and body, and content to keep you as this sniveling creature of unadulterated need for as long as he can withstand the tight sleeves of your pussy and ass. 

     You can feel his delight at your stuttered whimper when he works the tip of his tail into your over-occupied cunt. 

_      ‘I should have taken a human pet ages ago,’ _ he growls and the tremor in his voice belies the cool facade he’s trying so desperately to maintain.

     It’s intriguing. You find yourself wanting to see more of this creature losing control. Digging your nails into his shoulders, you scratch bright red lines down his chest and revel in the way his abdomen ripples as you clamp down on his cocks and tail inside of you. 

     He outright hisses at you in warning and you’re caught between finding it almost comically stereotypical and not giving a flying fuck because the pain of being violated so mercilessly and riding the edge of orgasm for so long is so exquisite that you’re driven only by feeling and instinct.

     The creature continues to ravage you until your body falls limp, drained of all energy and pushed past the point of exhaustion. You struggle to breathe around his tail as he thrusts it into your mouth and down your throat, murmuring in some language you can’t even understand through the telepathic link. Neither of you are completely coherent.

     His hemipenes split open your ass, your pussy left gaping and weeping blood-streaked cum. You can feel the effects of whatever reaction his claw caused in you thankfully waning as for the first time you can truly feel the ebb and flow of your orgasm. 

     The naga manipulates your body effortlessly, pressing so deep within you that you see stars. Or maybe you’re about to blackout. You can’t find the energy to care though as you feel his cool, long fingered hand find your sensitive clit. He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger causing you to mewl and keen, so close to  _ finally  _ finding release. 

     Your orgasm thunders through you suddenly, ripping you apart and your entire world fades to black as your brain is incapable of processing what amounts to the culmination of hours of edging and brutal sex.

 

* * *

 

     Harsh, hot light wakes you and you roll to your side to shield yourself. Pain lances through you and you bite your lip to withhold the yelp that threatens to escape your lips. Your entire body is in agony, muscles radiating a dull ache that will surely stay with you for days to come. Most concerning though, is the intense stinging between your legs. 

      You’re not sure of your ability to walk but you force yourself into a sitting position anyways, blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright light. Some instinct tells you to look to your left.

     In the far off distance you see the creature, watching you. You shake your head, not entirely certain that it isn’t a mirage, before looking again. The naga inclines his head towards you and once again you’re stricken with the throbbing pain of his presence inside your mind.

_      ‘You may call me Kylo Ren. Expect to see me again soon, pet,’ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this!  
> As far as Kylo's 'claw', certain types of male snakes have a similar organ (called a pelvic spur) they use to "clasp" or "tickle" during mating and courtship. Kylo's pelvic spur releases a biochemical aphrodisiac into the blood stream (I took some serious artistic liberties here, folks, sorry) to heighten his partner's arousal. Because Reader is a squishy human and does not share his physiological makeup, it causes a more extreme reaction. Naga!Kylo isn't really modeled after one specific type of snake (there are so many to choose from!).


End file.
